Sword Play
by Jaycest
Summary: Not to be taken seriously. This is a short fic written in response to the Threesome Fic challenge on the forum, about a conversation gone seriously wrong between Fergun, Garrel and Regin!


Under the persuasion of his fellow novices, a month has passed since the young Winar started taking weaponry lessons. He had hoped that his friends would grow tired of it eventually, indeed they did, but instead, he fell in love with it. Unlike performing magical strikes, it was quite a thing to hold a sword in his hand, to hear the sound of the metallic clang whenever two blades met. And the force of that impact reverberating through his arms and hands afforded a kind of satisfaction which he couldn't quite explain. But that was also a problem for the young Winar. For some reasons unknown to him, he couldn't seem to wield his sword longer than five minutes without feeling overly exhausted and thus losing his grip. So under the suggestion of his guardian, Lord Garrel, who seemed a little drunk when the young Winar shared his woes with him, he decided to seek Lord Fergun for advice as he was told that the arrogant blonde magician knew a great deal about handling swords of all kinds and sizes.

Regin cleared his throat, and knocked on the door to Lord Fergun's room.

"Come in," a voice came from inside.

"Ah, here you are." Lord Garrel, who was already seated in the guestroom, motioned him to enter.

"Fergun, my nephew here could do with some help in mastering his...ah...way with the sword." The older Warrior spoke rather stiffly, observed Regin, and he caught the odd look he gave to his companion who seemed puzzled by it.

Fergun raised a brow. "Sword?" Then, a moment later after Garrel frowned at him meaningfully. "Ah, you mean _the_ sword." He chuckled as if it was a topic that greatly amused him. "Well, let's hear what seems to be the problem, shall we?" He seemed rather eager to help Regin, so the young Winar wasted no time in sharing his misery, repeating the exact words he told his uncle a few nights ago over dinner. When he was finally done, the younger Warrior leaned back into his chair, crossing his leg lazily and measured him with a perplexed look in his eyes.

"Is there a family history to your problem, Regin?" He asked with a pondering look on his face, though he seemed to be directing his question to Garrel instead.

His uncle replied way too hastily as if he was gravely insulted it. "Certainly not!" He scowled at him, and then cast a worried glance at Regin, "Although, I'm not too sure about his side of the family."

Not following the conversation completely, Regin swept his eyes between the two men hoping that one of them would explain what his family got to do with his problems exactly. Looking at his confused expression, Fergun went on.

"So...erh, does anyone else in your family have the same difficulty, your brothers perhaps or even your father?"

The young Winar shook his head. "I have no brothers, but my father owns a sword."

"I'm sure he does, Regin." Fergun returned mockingly, and regarded him as if he had just heard the most ridiculous thing.

"Now, have your father told you anything about his sword?"

Again, Regin was entirely befuddled by his weird question. "No." He cast him a doubtful look, wondering if the younger Warrior could really find a solution to his problems. Then, something struck him and he added quickly. "Actually yes, my father did complain that his sword is old and blunt and has gone completely useless after he misused it and it went crooked."

Fergun uncrossed his leg suddenly, slapped his knees. He crowed in laughter until his eyes were brimming with tears. Feeling both annoyed and insulted, Regin clenched his jaws tight and made for the door.

"No wait," Garrel called after him, at the same time trying hard to keep his face straight.

"I think I can help you," Fergun, coughed more than said those words.

Regin narrowed his eyes at him again suspiciously, but he decided to give that man another chance before deciding whether or not to leave.

"How can you help me?" He questioned him.

"Well, I'm surprised no one has taught you yet. Rather, this is something every man will come to learn naturally. Some as early as ten years old, while others as late as sixteen. I reckoned you are one of the slow ones then." He ran his eyes from top to bottom making Regin once again uncomfortable. And he went on.

"You see, to toughen your sword, you just need to rough it up with your hands."

"Right...with my hands..." Regin repeated after him.

"But be careful of the tip. Take extra care of that area, otherwise it may get a little er...uncomfortable."

Lord Garrel nodded after him empathetically. "Yes, it does. Remember that, Regin. Don't say we didn't warn you." He waggled a finger at him warningly.

Regin swallowed uneasily. _Alright, the tip is sharp so I should avoid it._ He made a mental note to remember that warning.

"Now, you should not overdo it either, otherwise you will tire before it even goes into, ah...the sheath." For a while, Fergun appraised the blank look on Regin's face concernedly. "Have you understood a thing of what I've said?"

The young Winar cocked his head to one side, replied with obvious uncertainty. "Yeah..." he shifted his feet a little before adding, "Not exactly, Lord Fergun...you lost me again."

Fergun released a loud exasperated sigh, and stood up from his seat. "His condition is far more serious than I thought." He told Garrel with a frown of worry and disbelief. "I need to show him how it's done."

The older Warrior gaped in shock. "Do you think that's appropriate?"

Fergun shrugged. "You can do it if that's what you have in mind," he offered.

"No," Garrel declined hastily. "I'm sure you know better than I do." Then he gave Regin a reassuringly nod. "Follow Lord Fergun into his room. Listen carefully to his instructions. It's very kind of him to provide you with a demonstration."

Regin nodded obediently to his uncle and let Fergun walk him to his room.

As he watched the door close, Lord Garrel lifted his glass and drained its contents pondering at the same time how would Regin react to what Fergun was about to show him.

Then, he heard a loud screaming.

"What the hell are you doing?"

In the next minute, the young Winar stormed out of the room flushed with anger. Fergun was left handling his sword, with his pants dropped around his ankles.

* * *

_First of all, A BIG Thank You to __**Laura **__for beta-ing and for allowing me to franchise her sword idea again! :p_

_I hope you have enjoyed this short but nonsensical fic! _

_And if you did, it will make me really happy if you can leave a word or two. Reviews always make me happy! _^_^


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